


Father

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-23 19:38:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21086714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Bilbo checks in with Sam.





	Father

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Rivendell is a beautiful place—the most beautiful of all the places that Sam has ever been or even ever dreamed of. It was a trying, difficult journey, but worth every second of it, except, perhaps, for Frodo’s injury. The rest Sam would do all over again if it meant he’d see more elves. 

Every morning he wakes up in Elrond’s household, he’s in a pleasant mood. There’s always something to do, even if it’s only walking about the gorgeous gardens with a sense of awe, and there always seems to be music playing: the lilting, lovely sort that makes Sam’s inside tingle. He wants to watch the minstrels play, but he has somewhere to be. He promised Bilbo over last night’s supper that he’d visit first thing in the morning, and so he intends to. He’s missed Bilbo a great deal. Frodo is, of course, everything that Sam has ever needed or wanted, but Bilbo is still a charming, fascinating hobbit that Sam will always feel affection for. 

Bilbo seems to have made himself quite at home in Rivendell. His door is wide open, like most of the rooms in Elrond’s sprawling household, but Sam still politely knocks against the wooden frame. Bilbo’s bustling inside, and he cheerily waves Sam forward, greeting, “Hello, my boy! It’s good to see you!”

“You too, Mr. Bilbo,” Sam returns, even though he saw Bilbo only yesterday. He doesn’t know if Bilbo remembers—he’s gotten quite on in years, though he doesn’t look nearly so old as he should. He already has tea set out on the little round table in his quarters, which he gestures Sam towards. Sam goes to take a seat. He chirps, “Thank you,” as Bilbo serves him tea. 

Sam has so very much to say. He can guess exactly why Bilbo wanted to speak to him—Bag End was the best home in the Shire, and Sam did his very best to keep it that way. He’s made dozens of improvements to the garden since Bilbo’s departure, and he’s even helped Frodo with a number of things inside. He just wishes he were an artist so he could paint a better picture. Words will have to do. 

Bilbo puts the pot down and settles back into his chair, blowing over his cup and sighing, “Now, then, Samwise. I did want to have a word with you.”

“Right here, Mr. Bilbo, Sir.” He takes a sip of tea—which turns out to be something like chamomile but much richer—and he adds, “Oh, this is very nice.”

“Isn’t it? Lindir gifted me the leaves. But I didn’t bring you here to talk tea.” He sets his cup down a little loudly and leans forward towards Sam. “Now, then, the real question: what are your intentions with my Frodo?”

Sam nearly spits out his tea. He does choke, taking a second to recover while Bilbo patiently waits. There’s a definitely sparkle of mischief in his eyes that Sam’s old gaffer used to talk about. Sam does find it dreadfully unfair to ask a question like that without warning. 

Worse, Sam doesn’t know how to answer it. Even after he’s regained his breath, he can feel his cheeks heating with embarrassment. He splutters, “Um... I don’t know, Sir... begging your pardon, but... ‘my intentions’...?” Of course, he knows what that _implies_, but he still doesn’t know at all how to reply. 

Bilbo fondly chuckles, “I always suspected, naturally—you were always following him about and smiling. But for you to come all the way here with him is quite a feat; I know how we hobbits can be! You really must have been smitten to take such a journey!”

_Smitten_. Sam’s sure he’s red as a tomato. He takes another sip just to hide his face for that brief second. Bilbo chortles, “Ah, young love. Now that’s what they write songs for! But Frodo is a very special hobbit, of course, so if you’re going to pursue him, I must know if you’re really ready to take care of him good and proper.”

Sam stutters, “I, uh... um...” He was completely prepared to go to the ends of the world for Frodo, but explaining that to Frodo’s uncle is an entirely different story. 

Then Bilbo tosses his head back, laughing jovially. “Only joking, my boy!” He wipes at his eyes and shakes his head. “Oh, but you really are very cute together. I’m rather happy for you.” Clapping his hands, he changes the subject to: “Now! What’s become of my old garden?”

_That_ Sam can explain. So, thoroughly flustered, he does.


End file.
